Chapter 28

ANYA

“Fuck me,” I murmur demandingly between our kisses.

“Not yet.” His reply is spoken in a growl as his mouth catches mine again, kissing me so deep that every fiber of my being awakens in a little dance.

His hands seek aggressively for my clothes, sliding my denim jacket from my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Then he starts on my joggers, his rough fingers slipping under the waistband and tugging them down.

“Don’t be a tease,” I grumble when he pulls away and crouches before me to drag my pants down my legs. “You should be on your knees right now. Begging for forgiveness.”

He does the same with my underwear, his amber irises shining with wicked mischief when he looks up. “I have different ways to apologize.”

I open my mouth, ready to retort, but he is faster.

Springing up from his crouch, he consumes me again. He catches my lips with his and smooches me deeply while lifting my crop top.

My warm skin gets exposed to the humid air of the room that is filled with the scent of paint. When he has me stripped naked—me having opted out of wearing a bra today—his gaze darkens.

Supporting the back of my head with a hand, he slowly brings us both to the floor. Our lips meet again halfway as he lays me down, my sharp nipples grazing the cottony material of his T-shirt.

Moans leave me in gasps when his body melts over mine, and when he breaks away for the umpteenth time, I am breathing hard and lying naked on the floor of his secret room.

“Stay still,” he commands, getting up and walking around me over to the blank canvas on the easel. The nearby desk has a drawer, which he pulls out.

One would expect to find more colors and brushes inside, but what he takes out has me swallowing a large gulp of my saliva.

“What are you…” My words trail off when his thumb inspects the shape of the handcuffs.

He turns back to me, a small smirk on his lips. “This isn’t my secret room just for the paintings, baby girl,” he says, showing me a piece of red cloth in his other hand.

Goosebumps ripple across my body. “What do you have in mind?”

He strolls back to me and kneels between my legs, tracing the cool handcuffs up my bare legs. My skin blossoms red before he follows the path he maps with the touch of his hot lips, planting soothing kisses over my skin.

I whimper, opening my mouth in silent moans as the handcuffs reach higher.

“Apologies,” he answers. “Spoken on your skin.”

Suddenly grasping both my wrists in one hand, he pulls them over my head and stretches me until I am in an arched-up angle. When I spread my legs to support myself, his eyes settle on the spot between them, which is dripping arousal on the floor.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

I know I shouldn’t give him any more power over me, yet I can’t stop my head from nodding.

A frown replaces his amusement for a second. “Words, Miss Renée.”

“Yes, sir.” I sound breathy, expectant of the greatest torment, inviting him to brand me as he wants to. He could use me right now, debase me, and I would fall for his charm. I won’t stop him even though my body hurts.

The pain is bittersweet, but my greed for pleasure is insatiable.

“Good girl,” he says, placing the handcuffs on me.

My wrists brush against each other before he lets them go to cover my eyes with the red silk. As soon as my sight gets blocked, my hearing is enhanced. I listen to every movement of his, even his breaths.

His touch leaves me, and the warmth above my body is replaced by coolness as I lie there with my hands locked together.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and alarm bells go off in my head when his footsteps start to sound farther away until I don’t hear them anymore.

“Dimitri? Where are you?” I call, my voice coated in panic as I bend my elbows to make myself sit up. But the effort is tiring, so I stay down. “Dimitri!”

Silence is what I hear in return—silence so deafening that the paint smell makes me feel nauseous, where it had been arousing moments ago.

“Damn…bastard,” I groan, hitting the back of my head on the floor.

“Language, baby girl.”

I startle at his words; I didn’t hear him come back with my blood pounding so hard in my ears. He moves again, closer, and then the warmth of his body is back. I feel him everywhere on me, like raindrops of his name have drenched me all over, although I can’t see.

“Don’t leave me alone this way,” I say. “I hate it.”

“I had to go bring something to make my apology matter more.”

“What did you bring?”

The softest sound of something being opened causes my breath to catch. I shiver, wondering what new punishment he has in store for me.

“Do you like ice cream, Anya?” he asks.

I chuckle. “Who doesn’t?”

“I like it too.” A hand lands over my ankle, yanking me down. My legs are separated by a large body between them, and my pussy is greeted by an abrupt coolness. “I like sucking the cream off my baby girl’s skin.”

Instantly, I know what he is doing. I start to say something, but the chilliest sensation grips my clit, making it hurt with how swollen it gets.

“Oo, oo! It’s cold!” I shout, trying to squeeze my legs, but Dimitri’s body in between keeps them parted.

“Shh.” His breath touches me right over the spot where he dropped the ice cream.

Stilling, I pant as something warm and velvety licks the cream off my pussy before a hot mouth sucks my clit inside it. I buck, crying out loud, and the handcuffs jangle as Dimitri’s tongue starts ravaging me.

Since I am unable to hold onto his hair to guide him the way I want him to pleasure me, he takes advantage by teasing me. His tongue makes short licks over my clit, every time grazing my hole but never entering.

I beg, twist, and turn as delirious heat rushes through me. “Oh…oh, Dimitri,” I moan, and he takes pity on me, finally spreading me further and diving his tongue inside my pussy.

He thrusts in and out, adding thick fingers that spread me further. Two of his fingers slide knuckle-deep inside, moving in and out. I buck my hips, having been left with nothing else to guide him.

Not that he disappoints.

His every lick is perfect; the push of his fingers inside my pussy makes my walls clamp tight around him. While the pleasure climbs higher and higher, I cry his name and mutter curses, my temporary blindness heightening the sensations.

One of his fingers enters so deep, touching and curling up, that my orgasm races upon me like a tsunami, numbing my body as I let go with a loud cry.

My breaths come in soft gasps when Dimitri pulls his mouth away from my cunt. He runs his tongue, now covered with my juices, up my body. And then he is on top of me, squeezing my boobs in both hands, wrapping his tongue around one nipple, and sucking audibly.

I am a mess of violent thoughts, all guided by pleasure. The brief sound of his belt buckle opening is followed by the sound of him unzipping. I wait, eager for his cock to be near me, thinking he will want me to take him in my mouth.

“Your tits are magnificent, Miss Renée,” he says instead, sounding breathless. “I want to fuck them.” The need in his voice is delicious to hear.

When I feel the tip of his cock drag across my boobs, I am just as needy, happy for him to slide between my cleavage. “Do it!” My excitement is clear in my voice.

He chuckles, and I hear the moist sound of him jerking himself over me. A drop of something wet falls onto my chest, and I know it is his precum. “So eager,” he muses.

Pressing my boobs together to deepen my cleavage, he pushes his cock between them, pulls it out, and then drives it back in. He is fucking my tits, and the sweat from his face and body drizzle down onto my frame.

I long to see him, to touch him, but the inability to do either surprisingly increases my enjoyment. And I can tell from Dimitri’s grunts that he is loving having total control over me.

“Yes…just like that,” he groans. His voice, a vibrancy of pure pleasure, has me rubbing my thighs together and my body already seeking another climax.

We moan together as he uses my tits to pleasure himself.

“You make Daddy’s cock feel so good, baby girl,” he tells me in a gravelly tone. “So…damn…good—ah.” He is close. He always sounds like this when he is about to cum, and I am ready for him to cum. “Should Daddy cum on your tits? You want Daddy to do that, right?”

“Yes! Cum on my tits, Daddy!” I urge him. “Mark me.”

His thrusts grow faster until he is unable to keep holding on to my boobs. He starts to jerk off, his slapping sounds so loud that they ring in my ears. “Oh, ugh. Daddy’s cumming, sweetheart.” His seed spills all over me, some sprinkling my face, as rope after rope leaves him.

A few drops fall upon my lips, and I lick them away. His salty, familiar taste is igniting.

With one last grunt, he finishes painting my chest with his release. He rubs two fingers in circles over my chest before dragging them up my body and placing them over my lips. “Suck,” he demands, pushing the two digits into my mouth.

I lick and slurp his fingers clean, tasting more of him.

When he pulls them out, he wastes no time in releasing me from the handcuffs and taking the blindfold off me.

After blinking to adjust to the sudden burst of light, I make out his figure beside me. He is smiling a little, his flushed cheeks accompanied by lust-filled eyes. His cock is not tucked into his pants, and it is somehow still hard.

Without hesitation, I lunge for him, climb over him, and make him lie beneath me as I straddle him. I take his cock in my hand, and he looks at me with an expression that says he wants just what I want.

He hands me a condom from his pocket and watches intently as I roll it down his massive length.

“So what now?” I ask, lifting myself and guiding his cock inside my cunt. My words leave in a moan as his cock buries itself deep inside me. “What’s our new status?”

He grabs my hips, thrusting up just as I drop down, and we both shiver from the first delicious push.

“What do you want it to be?” he asks.

I place my hand upon his pecs and roll my hips around while he thrusts up continuously. Us together, him inside me—this is right. This is how it should be. I am drunk in the ecstasy that is Dimitri Rossi, who has a talent for killing my inhibitions.

With no shame at all, I respond, “Can I be your girlfriend?”